School's Out
by AssassinMeed
Summary: Harry P. Dresden Jr was an odd kid to most people. He wore a black leather duster two sizes too large for him, a medical eye patch on his left eye and carried around a satanic-looking wooden stick wherever he went. So it's probably no surprise to find that he's actually a wizard! So when Harry finds himself kidnapped and forced into a magic tournament, he can only expect the worst.
1. intro

Introduction: The worst day of the week

I hate Mondays.

I mean, I've never been much of a Garfield type of guy, but the hatred of Mondays is a feeling that's probably mutual between us.

Mondays is probably the worst day of the week because it always cut off my normal 6 hours of sleep whenever my dad (well he's adoptive, but the same thought applies) wakes me up to get to school. I hate Mondays because once I get back from a long day of sleepin... I mean studying in class, it takes another 1 hour trip through a Way (a quick shortcut through the Nevernever that lets someone travel great distances in a matter of a few steps) to get to my next lesson at Edinburgh with the -still recovering- Warden Morgan.

I guess we can now add being kidnapped/teleported in front of a medieval castle filled with a bunch of cosplayers to the list of why I hate Mondays.

…oOo…

There wasn't many things that could really shock Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. He had been at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for nearly as long as anyone could remember. Albus Dumbledore was a man that had lived through the raise of two Dark Lords, served as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot for decades, and was the current wielder of a wand that has been said to have been forged by the hands of Death itself for nearly half a century.

Albus Dumbledore was a man that lived through hell and back, and was the holder of great strength in both the art of magic and manipulation. But never, in his life, could he consider that he would pull a certain name out from the Goblet of Fire. However, more unexpected was seeing the face of the child that he had long since given up hope in finding, just suddenly pop up in front of the Goblet itself.

The Boy by his calculations was around the age of 14 years old. He stood frozen eye widened at the large audience gasping at what had just transpired moments ago. There was a short pause that rushed across the room like a gust of wind. No one moved a muscle, no one said a word, and they just watched, waiting to see what would come next.

He wore a tatted dark baseball cap, a medical eyepatch that covered his left eye, and old fashioned duster two size too large. His feet stood with a stance that signified that he was expecting a fight any moment. In one hand the young man carried a staff carved in a dozen different Celtic runes, and in the other was a muggle weapon (44. Magnum) that carried a dozen more crudely scratched runes that resembled ancient more Egyptian roots.

In a quick and fluid motion, the boy lifted his staff towards the staff's table where the most of the present professors had raised their wands in alarm towards the armed child. In the other hand the muggle weapon instantly fixated on the head of one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

The young man in question was none other than The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry James Potter.

For a moment there was a brief sigh that escaped from the mouth of the unexpected guest.

"Garfield, you smartass son of a bitch."

 **Just a quick introduction to what this story might become. I'm not entirely sure if I should continue this idea so tell me you thoughts. Good, Bad? It doesn't really matter, I'm just interested in what you might have to say. This is mainly a test run to see how you might like a story like this.**

 **So hopefully you enjoyed it, and if you didn't explain where I went wrong. I wish you have a nice day wherever you are in the world, and may Bob be with us all!**


	2. Chapter 1: No Bullets In The Gun

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that is actually magic. I own a deck of cards, but that's really it.

Chapter 1: No Bullets In The Gun

…oOo…

 ** _The Dark Man stood at the exit of the burning hallway; a hallway of which had used to be my old middle school._**

 ** _There was a sharp pain that ran through my right arm; I clutched onto it for dear life. I was running down the charred remains of what had been a dozen row of lockers in hopes of escaping the shadows of the Dark Man's thousands of hands, toying with me as I inevitably lost my footing, falling face first on to ash covered floor._**

 ** _I turned to see the Dark Man slowly walking towards me, a sadistic grin slowly stretching across his pale white face. The flames around him seem to blaze brighter and brighter with each step he took, as his eyes started to morph into a pitch black state._**

 ** _Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in my left eye. It felt like it was starting to tear itself apart from the inside out, the Dark Man only moments then raised his finger causing the pain to intensify further._**

 **" _Ahhh Harry, we should really stop meeting like this; it's getting sort of dull wouldn't you say?"_**

 ** _I heard the quiet sounds of a scream rippling through my head as, moment by moment, my forehead started to dripped a terrifyingly thick substance that started to evaporate into a black cloud of mist._**

 ** _In a forward motion, the Dark Man rose his left hand and forced the gathering dark cloud of mist into the palm of his hand, creating what had seemed be a miniature black hole. For a moment, the Dark Man analyzed the substance in his possession, his pitch black eyes scanning the item in what had to be a strange mixture of curiosity and disgust._**

 ** _The Dark Man took a feel steps towards me as I tried to slowly crawl always from him, clutching my left eye in agonizing pain. He rose an eyebrow to my poor attempt at an escape and, for a brief second, gave a spine tingling laugh that rang throughout the blazing halls._**

 **" _This, my dear child, is just one example, of the types of filthy things you humans always seem to do to yourselves in a mad dash for power. Honestly, it's quite pitiful, though I can see where you creatures are coming from. You weren't made with claws that could rip through flesh, or eyes that could see in the dark. No, you were made to be flawed creatures, born to be what this man had done to himself."_**

 ** _I couldn't tell what he was talking about, nor did I care for what he had to say. All I could really hear was the scream that started to tear deeper into my head. I tried to look around for the source of the screaming, but to no success._**

 ** _Louder and louder it became until I realized that the sound wasn't coming from some outside source, the screaming was coming from me._**

 **" _You know, I may have come for young Mr. Turner's soul, but getting this too? Oh this is just my lucky day!" He turned to walk away, but paused for a moment, "oh, and sorry about the eye, extracting a soul of this degree of power has never really been my specialty. But let's just count this a payback for what your father and his "holy than thou" friend did to me the last time we met."_**

 ** _The world started go black, and my last thoughts of the morning of that previous day, when my dad trying to wake me up to go to school._**

…oOo…

 _Gently, lay your hands on their soul like a whisper and find the places in which they are broken. Then love then until these fractured places become crevices, and the crevices become thin, white scars that they only just barely remember._

 _\- Nikita Gill_

…oOo…

I rubbed the outer lining of my left eye. It was stiff, but I could still feel the surface underneath the bright white medical eye patch. There were exposed veins popping out underneath with the sensation of large patches of skin begging to be peeled off if the eye patch were to be removed.

I had my blast rod (my 44. Magnum Revolver) trained an old man with enough power radiating off of him, I could feel it all from 5 feet away; and I had my handy dandy wizard staff pointed towards what had to be a group of - less threatening but more hostile – magic users all pointing their magical foci at yours truly.

Sweeping my magical senses around the room I founds something that ran chills down my spine. It was like sticking your hand down a nuclear reactor, the entire room was filled with active magic users that were all at least somewhat adept with their abilities.

Standing still, I started to question whether or not I was dreaming. I looked up at the ceiling only to find that it had somehow been enchanted to looking like the night sky, with thousands of candles lighting up the entire room in a dark but beautiful atmosphere.

Staring at it, I felt almost relaxed. The pale white moon lit the sky with an ominous yet luminescent glow. The stars twinkles with a sad fade, giving off the effect that the sky was somehow crying due to some catastrophe tragedy.

Looking face to face with the old man once more I noticed something about him. He was frozen still, his eyes unblinking as he stared at my position, his hands shaking with what was either surprise or fear.

I stared back at him for a brief moment, staying focused on his nose in case of an accidental soul gaze. We were there, face to face, with a spell readied to be cast in each of my foci.

It's best not to forget that the older wizards are the more dangerous due to their ability to have lived for so long. Your average wizards can live up to over 300 years old, and the older one got, the most likely assumption would be that they would have amassed a large amount of knowledge, power and experience over their plentiful years of struggling with the many supernatural threats that this world entails.

This was an old man that was radiating power that made my skin crawl just by looking at him, and he was up against a 14 year old amateur with an empty gun and a stick in both of his hands. It would be a one sided battle and I knew it; but that didn't mean that I had drop everything and get on my knees begging.

"Hello sir, I'm sorry but could you please tell me where I currently am?" I said politely, my gun still train on his forehead... yeah, I'm totally fucked aren't I?

…oOo…

Dumbledore was frozen still.

The world around him grew slower and slower as he stared at a boy he believed he had lost years ago.

The day he appeared on Privet Drive was the day he failed the boy that he had intended to protect.

He had believed that the boy would be safe with Petunia Dursley (the sister of the boy's mother). There were blood wards littered across the woman's house, strong enough to protect the boy long enough for the prophecy to be fulfilled. The blood wards were designed to stop any blood purists from finding and killing the defenseless child at a young age, or any death eaters looking for payback for what the boy did to their master. Dumbledore had accounted for many things that would come and threatens the boy's life, but he had never accounted that the Petunia herself would be a danger to the boy.

A year after the boy's disappearance, did Dumbledore notice that something reeked a foul odour on Privet Drive. After an extensive investigation, Headmaster of Hogwarts had discovered a history of parental neglect that had hide behind the wall of what looked to be a normal family.

Petunia Dursley held a terrible grudge over her sister's head due to her magical nature. This eventually led to her breaking off any form of contact with her sister; all while she harbored a dark resentment towards her, and thing else that involved magic, and the supernatural.

As so, after the events on that fateful Halloween Night, Dumbledore had made the disastrous mistake of giving Petunia the custody of her resented sister, dooming him to a life of neglect and abuse from the people that were meant to protect him.

This was one of the Headmaster's greatest mistakes, and one that led to the disappearance of the child a few weeks after his 4 birthday.

He had failed another young child, he had failed Harry like he had failed Ariana in her death. It was a mistake that he dreamt about in his sleep, that he thought about in his wake, it was a mistake that he never thought he could atone.

He failed Harry Potter like he failed his own flesh and blood, and it hurt him all the more.

However now, after 10 long years of trying to make sense of an ambiguous prophecy, of drowning his mistakes in his own sorrows and regrets, the boy that he had failed was now standing in front of him. Albeit, currently with a weapon in his hand pointed at the Headmaster himself, and a staff pointed at the faculty, the situation maybe more hopeful that he previously believed.

…oOo…

Severus Snape was a dick with a capital D. He never liked teaching his students, and found the insistently annoying. He was extremely bias towards his own house (Slytherin), and always wore a snarl on his face like it was a crowned jewel. He gave out detentions whenever he felt like it, and abused his power as badly as a politician being sponsored by 50 different independent companies all because a pool filled with dollar bills sounded really appealing to them.

Yes, Severus Snape was a gigantic cosmic sized Dick. But who could really blame him?

He had lost the love of his life to one of the bullies that used to torture him continuously when he was younger all because he was "different". The very same woman that stole his heart was also his only friend in the world, and the only person that he truly connected with. She was also the woman that he helped kill, she was the woman that he failed.

Her name was Lily Née Evans, he had known her since they were children, he had known her before he was tainted with the hate and envy, he had known her for as long as he could remember, and he had known her only moments before she was murdered by the man he ratted her out to.

He had killed his only friend, he had killed his only love, he had killed her and now he can never tell her how sorry he is, or how stupid he was for taking her friendship for granted.

Life had made Severus Snape a Dick, and he hated himself all the more for it. But there was someone that he hated even more than himself at the moment, someone that help shape him into the person that he was today, that person's name was James Potter, the man that took away his childhood, the man that picked on him a laughed all throughout his own happy childhood, filled with friends, family, and loved ones.

James Potter was the man that had it all, he was the man that hurt both physically and emotionally all throughout his life, and Severus Snape hated him even more because of it.

So one can't really blame Severus for the gigantic Dick he had become, or why he was the first to fire the first stunner at the young boy - aiming his weapons at both the facility and the headmaster of the school - the moment he recognized the child to be the spawn of the bastard James Potter.

…oOo…

The moment Severus threw the first spell, all hell broke loss. Harry narrowly dodged the attack by the skin of his knee and fired a spell towards the ceiling using his staff creating a storm of wind that burst through the doors of the great hall. Dumbledore had stumbled backwards in surprise at Severus' sudden attack, and the rest of the faculty tried to raise from the sudden burst of wind that had knocked them all onto the ground.

The room erupted in a panic, students started to scream out bloody murder, and children left and right started to rush towards the exits as the recovering staff started to try and bring order back to the currently chaotic atmosphere of the room.

Little did anyone notice their strange new visitor slipping through the crowd under the cloak of a hundred other confused faces.

…oOo…

 **" _Dad, why don't I have a mom?"_**

 **" _We can talk about that when you're older, alright sport?"_**

 **" _But the other kids always pick on me, they keep on telling me that I should have a mom!"_**

 **" _Who's been telling you this? I'll have a talk with his parents immediately!"_**

 **" _His name is Faramond Turner, he keeps on telling me that if I don't have a mom, than I'm not normal."_**

 **" _Come on Harry, don't say that."_**

 **" _But am I normal dad? I always see the other kids saying stuff about their moms. And how great they are. Sometimes I hear them making fun of you for being a wizard."_**

 **" _Try not to worry about what they think Harry, you special, and that's all I can ever ask for."_**

 **" _Dad can I ask you something?"_**

 **" _What is it son? You can ask me anything you want."_**

 **" _Are you really my dad?"_**

…oOo…

Somewhere in Chicago, a tall man in a dark leather duster waved his staff in the air and quietly whispered the word "aparturum", ripping a translucent hole from our world, and the world beyond our imagination, the Nevernever.

He going to pay a surprise visit to his adoptive son during his daily practice drills with Morgan. He held a small box in his hand gifted to his son for their 10 anniversary date. His face was stretched out with a goofy grin and he gripped his staff barely able to hold his excitement.

"I can't wait for Harry to get a load of this!"

…oOo…

" _All of us are broken one way or another, and we all have a story to tell. Some of them are just happier than some other, but we've all been there, we've all felt pain in our life. Sometimes it even feels really lonely when we hurt, but we can't ignore it, we can't pretend that it isn't there, we have to live with it, day by day, week by week, year by year until the end of our lives. But it gets easier, it gets easier every day, we just have to believe it does._

 _-_ _Anonymous_

 _ **...oOo...**_

 **I still have no idea if I should continue this story, so I'm kept the chapter short and to the point. It's an actual chapter one, so I'm interested in what you all have to say about it. Good? Bad? Tell me what you think about the chapter, and let me see if I can do better next time! I'm rather open to criticism like the ones for the previous introduction chapter, and found them really insightful. It's a learning experience so I really do want to know what you think! Hopefully you'll enjoy it.**


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